


Good Boy

by wellthatsood



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Banter, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Early Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthatsood/pseuds/wellthatsood
Summary: Meyer has some questions about what Charlie likes in the bedroom; naturally, these are questions best asked naked.





	Good Boy

“Charlie?” Meyer said, his tone light and casual, in contrast to the situation. 

The situation involved Charlie, nudity, and the two of them lying side-by-side, nose-to-nose in bed, while Meyer—with no sense of urgency—ran his hand up and down the length of Charlie’s cock. If Charlie’s flushed cheeks, closed eyes, and soft mewls were anything to go by, he was enjoying it. 

“Nhh?” Charlie asked, arching into him. 

“You and Benny are always talking—”

“Benny?” Charlie’s eyes snapped open. “What’re you bringin’ him into this for?” 

Meyer shot him a look; he was surprised at the way Charlie melted into it, nodding for him to continue. The slow and steady rhythm of his hand on his cock seemed to be helping matters. 

“You always _joke_ , about things. About all sorts of… bedroom activities. Some of them a little unconventional,” he explained carefully, keeping pace with his hand to steady his nerves as much as to soothe Charlie into the conversation. 

A slow, sharp grin spread across Charlie’s mouth as his lashes fluttered closed. “And you’re sayin’ you like that?”

Meyer shook his head. “I’m asking, do _you_?” 

Charlie’s hips paused and Meyer’s stopped his hand to match. “You’re askin’… what I like?” His bare throat bobbed with a deep swallow, tongue flicking out to lick his lips and catch the edge of it with his teeth. The sight made Meyer’s fingers twitch involuntarily against Charlie’s cock. 

He chuckled. “Well, I guess I like a lotta things. Thinkin’ about ‘em, mostly. You know how it is.” 

“No,” Meyer said, because he didn’t. But to cover, he twisted his wrist, Charlie gasped, and Meyer said, “That’s why I want you to tell me.” 

Charlie sucked a deep breath through his teeth, followed by a shuddering sigh. “God, this is hot,” he breathed. Perhaps remembering that he was supposed to be explaining, he tacked on, “You. Askin’ questions. Bein’ all…” 

“Patronizing?” Meyer supplied. He’d never know if it was the word or the jerk of his wrist that made Charlie gasp. “I don’t mean to patronize you. I just… wanted to ask,” he explained. Charlie’s mouth was hanging open, eyes closed, and he didn’t seem to be complaining, but Meyer felt a little guilty all the same. 

Charlie managed to shake his head. “Don’t mind. I like it when you’re stern.” 

Meyer hummed in approval. This had been a good idea. Terrifying, yes, but this was information he wanted to know and Charlie seemed much more pliable to providing it while in his current state. Plus, it meant less eye contact and embarrassing pauses, especially when he could fill the silence by making Charlie moan. That was a positive in any situation.

With a flutter of nerves—excitement?—in his chest, Meyer ventured a step further, based on the kinds of talk he sometimes heard, even if it felt unnatural to say. In a lowered voice, he said, “Do you want me to tell you that you’ve been bad?” 

Charlie gasped with a shuddering thrust. “No,” he breathed. His back arched into Meyer’s hand, head falling back, and with a moan he said, “I want you to fuck me hard and call me a good boy.” 

Meyer forgot how to breathe. And judging by Charlie’s moan of disappointment, he also forgot how to move his hand. His cock twitched against his palm, which was now very slick, and Meyer realized just how close that exchange alone had gotten him. 

“Too much?” Charlie asked, one eye opened and squinting at Meyer, who admittedly must have seemed rather flustered. 

“No, no, that’s—that’s good, I just—” Regaining his footing, Meyer affected a firm voice once more, as there was still information he wanted. “I’m just not finished with you yet.” 

Charlie moaned. “ _Fuck_ , you’re incredible,” he breathed. Then, perhaps to cover the sentiment as Meyer blushed, he added, “And evil.” He wriggled his hips as a reminder of his hard cock straining against Meyer’s unmoving hand. 

“Well, then tell me something else you want, if you’d like more.”

“I’d _like_ you to touch me.” 

“I am touching you,” Meyer reminded. 

“That ain’t what I mean.” 

“And you know what _I_ mean. Answer the question.” 

Charlie hesitated. Meyer shifted his hand ever-so-slightly, brushing the heel of his palm against Charlie’s base as enticement. Charlie all but yipped, leaning his forehead against Meyer’s and breathing hard. 

“Can I suck you first?” he asked in a breathless whisper. 

Meyer blinked and asked, “Do you want to?” It wasn’t so much because it would be appealing to hear Charlie say so (though it would), but because he wanted to make sure. It wasn’t Meyer’s favorite thing to do—he’d much rather use his hand, which couldn’t _taste_ —but then, Charlie was another matter entirely. To prompt him, Meyer slowly began to stroke again. 

Charlie swallowed again—evocative, given their conversation—and muttered, “I’d do it all day if you let me.” 

Now it was Meyer’s turn to whimper, more at the raw honesty in Charlie’s voice than the thought of the act itself. Throat dry, he said, “But then I’d never have the opportunity to fuck you.” 

“You got every opportunity, Mey,” Charlie groaned. “Anytime you want, I’m yours.” 

Meyer’s face burned red hot, though Charlie would never see, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. He didn’t know what to say to that; really, what could you say? Instead, he demonstrated his approval—or really, more his appreciation—with a twist of his wrist as he increased the pace. 

With a moan, Charlie blurted, “Will you pull my hair? When I’m suckin’ you?” 

Meyer’s free hand answered with a sharp tug at the base of his neck; Charlie yelped. “Like this?” 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Mey—” His head pulled back, color rising in his exposed neck, Charlie stared at him with wide, eager eyes, thrusting into his hand. “Bite me. Please.”

What was once an insult thrown with venom on the stone and dirt of teenaged back alleys was now a plea that went straight to Meyer’s stomach. This was supposed to be controlled, supposed to be measured, but fuck it—he couldn’t stay detached from this, not with Charlie’s dark pleading eyes. 

He buried his face in the softness of Charlie’s neck, biting down, as Meyer’s bare hips thrust against Charlie. His hand wrapped around them both—Charlie had dripped enough to make it an easy glide—and he stroked them both, faster and faster, marking Charlie’s neck with his teeth. 

“How—do you want—me—to fuck you,” Meyer asked against the blood-broken bruise inside his collar. 

Charlie moaned. Their bodies twined together, thighs between the other’s legs— _push, pull, push, pull_ —rocking and grinding with fervent desperation. “Any way you want.” And Meyer bit him, hard. _Not good enough_ , his teeth told his skin. “I want you on me,” he gasped in admission. “On top of me, so there’s nothin’ but you, holdin’ me down, fillin’ me up, and it’s just you—just you, everywhere.”

It was all Meyer could do to keep from groaning along with him. The heat was building, their thrusts frantic and mismatched, both close to spilling between their chests. Just a little more, a little longer—“ _What else_ ,” he all but demanded, firm and harsh with the effort to talk through the arousal. 

“God, Meyer,” Charlie whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, anything. Pin me down and fuck me hard, or tease me slow ’til I’m shakin’, I don’t _care_ , I just wanna be nothin’ but _yours_.” 

The room spun, Meyer’s breaths coming in quick pants, and it was all he could do to ask, “My good boy?” 

And Charlie bucked, cried out, a spasm rocking through his body as he arched and thrust and spilled into Meyer’s hands. He twitched and jerked, a symphony of whimpering breathy moans in Meyer’s ear, and that was all it took to give Meyer that final push. He arched into him with a groan, limbs shaking with the momentary loss of control surging through his body in waves. 

They lay panting together, legs entwined and foreheads pressed together, as their ragged breathing slowly returned to normal. One of Meyer’s hands was slack against the bed, palm turned up to contain the mess as best he could. His clean hand carded gently through Charlie’s hair, brushing against his scalp and through the strands of curls. 

Charlie was the first to find his voice. He cleared his throat and asked, “So you, uh, find out everythin’ you wanted to know?” 

Meyer’s lips quirked into a smile. “That depends. Do you stand by what you said?” he asked. Part of him was teasing; part of him wanted to make sure it wasn’t just the heat of the moment. 

But Charlie’s face broke into a large grin, though his cheeks flushed a new layer of pink that had nothing to do with being post-pleasure. With a shaky laugh, he said, “All of it. Feel free to uh, you know…”

“Apply what I’ve learned?” Meyer offered. 

Charlie shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but he was blushing dark all the same. “Yeah, well, knowledge is power.” 

Meyer snorted. Out of all the things Charlie had said, that was what caught him most off-guard. He laughed and pulled himself closer to Charlie’s chest, curling up against him. He pressed a soft kiss into the reddening marks on his neck and smiled at it contemplatively. 

With a smirk, Meyer said, “Good.” A shiver ran down Charlie’s spine. 

**Author's Note:**

> [also on tumblr](http://goatsandgangsters.tumblr.com/post/171363846979/good-boy)


End file.
